


Don't listen to (rumours)

by katiebuttercup



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Advice, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust is a delicate thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMagicMeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicMeep/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rumours](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048763) by [TheMagicMeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicMeep/pseuds/TheMagicMeep). 



Disclaimer:nothing is mine, story belongs to the magicmeep

Kaitlyn=Ireland

"What crawled up your arse?" England says without preamble, France winces at the reminder that Scotland isn't the only kirkland sibling with a mouth like a sailor only he's more used to England hiding it. 

"Nothing,"

England raises an eyebrow and France realises how petulant he sounds, he gives himself a shake, unused to this crawling feeling between his shoulder blades and the barely concealed rage flowing through his veins, it's the one of the things he hates about being immortal. Everyone has long memories. And no one is willing to give second chances.

England's hand settles in the nook of his arm pulling him closer so that they can speak semi privately. Familiar green eyes bore into his with startling intensity and even one step removed from Scotland's it's a hard confession to voice. 

"Do you think Scotland trusts me?"

To England's credit her face betrays no reaction, she has trained herself only to reflect what she wants the world to see but France knows her; can read the incredulity under the gossamer mask. 

"Does my sister look like she wastes time on people she doesn't trust?" She gave a self deprecating shrug, "apart from me of course." 

France works his jaw, "I've lied before, I could be lying again, sleeping my way around the world while Scotland waits keeping the bed warm."

England tilted her head, cataloging France's features with an intensity that unnerved him; he was used it being stared at; admired but this was different, England was measuring him. 

"That doesn't sound like you France, I mean it sounds like your actions but since when do you care what anyone else thinks," 

Deliberately England glances towards the throng of nations crowding the bar, "that sounds like them." 

France's silence is her answer. 

"Listen France if I took what they said about me to heart I'd be a nervous wreak who wouldn't set foot outside her own front step, but I am England and you are France and there is a reason why we are not embroiled in a Hundred Years' War anymore. There's a reason why Scotland invites me to the pub when a few decades ago she wouldn't even contemplate it. The reason why I can have a civil conversation with my sister kaitlyn. We're not those people, we've grown up, I hope." 

She grins a truly terrible, beautiful grin, " and if I thought for one moment you were up to your old tricks I would scalp you so fast, and trust me you would thank me for getting to you first before Scotland had a chance." 

England takes a sip of champagne, using the glass to point to Scotland who was sitting at a table, fussing with her gown. France watches her, pale skin and flame red hair a beacon in the dark and crowded room. 

"The dopey look on your face tells me you're genuine France" England says at last. "You'd better go save her before the Netherlands gets a stiletto shoe in an unmentionable place." 

France chuckles, shoulders beginning to drop as the anger washes through him. When he breathes a little easier he finds that England has disappeared into the crowd and France takes her advice moving back to their secluded little spot. 

"You alright?" Scotland asks, concern lacing her tone adding a melodious note to her accent, it thrills France that he is allowed to hear it.

"Do you trust me?" 

Just as England had done Scotland's eyes fell to the bar, her expression hardening. 

"I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't, I'm not a party animal. This isn't exactly my scene."  
France nods, "we need to talk, properly. But for now..."

He holds out his hand and without pause Scotland takes it, and under the gazes of most of the world they leave.

Together. 

End


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scotland and France talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have left it as it was but the first bit was angsty so have some feel good fluff

"So you want to tell me what all that was about?" Scotland asked as she settled onto the couch, watching France undo his tie. France paused in the motion, hands floundering in their precise movements. 

"What do you mean?" France asked neutrally, Scotland raised an eyebrow, waiting to see how far France was going to dig his hole before burying himself. It'll be amusing, she's sure. 

"I was talking with England isn't that enough?"

It was a good try, Scotland would give him points for effort but she's seem him pissed off at England and that's not the look.

"You were pissed off before England talked to you, you can't blame your bad mood on her, this time at least."

France considered the silk tie in his hands before throwing it carelessly over the back of the couch. Scotland watched the accessory and then looked at France. 

"You are aware of certain comments I am sure." France said, his words came out slowly, he was obviously measuring each word carefully. 

"Aye," Scotland said, every nation present with the exception of those Scotland considered family had taken it upon themselves to tell Scotland how she was setting herself up for failure in this relationship. 

France looked at her, blue eyes pinning her to the spot. "And how do you know they are not right?" 

Scotland leaned on the back of the sofa, chin resting on her outstretched arm. She met France's eyes squarely, face betraying nothing of how she felt. 

"And are they?" 

"What?" 

"Are they right? Are you sleeping around on me?" 

"Non!" 

Scotland shrugged, "then I believe you" she said simply. 

France's face twisted through a series of expressions and seemed to settle on bewilderment. 

"You cannot simply..."

"Yes I can," Scotland interrupted, "you tell me that yer not lying to me and I will believe you, it's that simple. We'll make it that simple. We have lived so many lives Francis and messed up hundreds of times squandered so many opportunities and finally, finally we have made it and I'm not going to let other people dictate to me, not anymore." 

"I find out you're lying, well that's a different story , but you're not, so...."

She pulled France down onto the sofa beside her, straddling him despite the protest of her dress. 

"And I know when you're lying,"

France managed to drag himself back from the precipice of lust that had fogged his mind when Scotland had first settled on his lap, "How?"

Scotland laughed, kissing his chin teasingly, "if I tell you you'll stop doing it," she grinned, full of wildness and secrets. "Mystery an' all."

France pouted but it only lasted until Scotland placed his hands on her zipper, "now help me out of this before it suffocates me" 

France laughed, "you certainly know how to get a mans attention"

The next set of kisses were placed with deliberate care and all thoughts of rumours fled France's mind. 

"And don't you forget it," Scotland said firmly. 

France didn't forget.


End file.
